


Long Before You

by NotSoHumanAnymore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Dreamsharing, Eventual Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Gen, Hallucinations, I have a lot of tags im sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insomnia, Isolation, M/M, Mental Instability, Mental Link, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sleep Deprivation, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Telepathic Bond, Unreliable Narrator, the whole fic is a flashback
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15771651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoHumanAnymore/pseuds/NotSoHumanAnymore
Summary: Instead there was little besides bright lights and memories of Steve. The trail to him feels so clear in his mind. It sings to him now, calls him like the void with a voice louder than any infinity stone. When he closes his eyes he can almost smell him. Steve.





	1. there's ghosts in my house and I can taste blood in my mouth

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while. It came about because I read remember this cold by lise which is amazing. I highly recommend it if you like Stoki. Also I read a writing prompt on tumblr while I was reading the series that asked for mundane mental connection stuff and while there won't be much in this right away I do have plans. 
> 
> This is gonna be pretty weird but that's what I love about fanfiction. It lets you explore some absolutely insane tropes. Like, normally I would never write something like this but I really have nothing to lose. 
> 
> As always you can find me on tumblr at revealingmeandmyself@tumblr.com and I hope you enjoy
> 
> Edit: I keep messing with the ending of this chapter but I think I'm finally happy with it. I'm not very good at fights so if anyone has any suggestions my ears are open

The prison break happens first. It happens suddenly and Loki is still halfway in Steve's mind when he realizes. For the first time in a long time there's noise, violence, and blood. The fighting lasts too long. It ends too quickly. 

Then there is silence, loud and oppressing. It pushes in on all sides. He fills his head with Steve. They watch a movie and he waits for something to happen. The captain waits too, although he's careful not to express it.

The guards leave next. They leave quickly and never come back. The meals stop coming too. Steve worries and Loki pushes him away. He waits, although luckily not for too long, and eventually the barrier falls.

The halls are dark and far too quiet. He has been alone for quite a while at this point. His heartbeat makes his ears ring. Its an echo of thr void. 

When he steps out of his cage, the floor is like ice through his thin shoes. Loki looks one way, then another. No guards swarm him. He doesn't look back at his cage and instead goes towards the stairs on the left. 

He climbs silently, a second heartbeat thrumming softly in his ears. The darkness is a stark contrast to the light. It hurts too, but in a cold, impersonal way, like locked doors on a winter's night. A part of him wonders why he doesn't just leave, jump to Midgard and not look back. The rest of him knows why he can't.

_“What happened?”_

He thinks that he doesn't know anything yet, probably something horrible. It's best to see for himself.

_“Maybe this is a trap.”_

Nothing Asgard would set, he doesn't need to say. 

_“Could someone have taken over?”_

Loki steps falter. 

_“They could be luring out the prisoners. See who's left after the huge breakout.”_

He looks at the bright light at the top of the steps. He looks at the darkness below. Sometimes the third option is better, he thinks. Then he pulls himself through space.

The halls are desecrated. Bodies litter the floor and everything is damaged or destroyed. The air smells of smoke and death. Loki take a careful breath, exhales slowly. This isn't what the air should smell like. When he looks at the ship, when he looks past it to the outside, he sees only fire. It had once been his dream to see Asgard burn, but not like this. 

He cloaks himself from view hurries to the throne room. It's probably a terrible idea --

_“It's definitely a terrible idea.”_

\-- however, if he wants to know what happened he should start there. If worse comes to worse, he thinks, then he can just leave. Go to Midgard perhaps. Go anywhere but here.

The gold is painted black with blood. At the base of the throne, the first thing he sees, is a familiar body missing a head. Gungnir sticks out of his chest like a shovel in the dirt, holding it up so it can be easily accessible. 

His ears ringing, Loki swallows down whatever burns the back of his throat. He shoves everything in a box in the dark corners of his mind and forces himself to breathe. Somewhere, dimly, he feels Steve's fear. He shoves that into the box too.

“What should we do with this?”

Loki jumps then realizes his glamor is still on. Strolling towards the throne like she owns it is a woman cloaked in green and black. Loki sees himself in her almost instantly. When she turns, he sees a bloodsoaked Mjolnir in her hand. 

“I could destroy it, I suppose, but where's the fun in that?” She drops it on Odin's leg and the bone makes a sickening, squishing crunch. Not unlike the sound a mud soaked stick makes when it breaks. How long had he been left there to rot?

 _“Loki you need to leave. You need to find civilians and help them to safety. Maybe some of the military is still alive.”_ Steve says. 

Where's Thor, is all Loki can think. She probably killed him too. Asgard was supposed to be the one place that was safe. What a fool he was.

_“Loki.”_

He steps out of hiding, ignoring the protests. Fierce green eyes find him instantly. A strong sense of familiarity strikes him. Something about the slant of her jaw or the curve of her eyes.

“Well who is this?”

“I was a prisoner,” He doesn't look at the body, “In the dungeons and the barriers fell. There have been no guards or food for days and everyone else left during the riot.”

“And you just came here?” The way her voice upturns, the tone she uses, reminds him almost of Odin. It was a tone he hasn’t heard in centuries.

“I assumed something had to happen for them to let me out.” He nods at the body without looking. “Who are you?”

“I am Hela.” She states simply. “And you?”

“Did you kill him?”

“No, but I wish I had.” She rips Gungnir from his chest, tearing a hole open in his side. Rancid blood spills out. “Who are you?”

_“Don't tell her.”_

“Just a prisoner.”

“You don't look like just a prisoner.” She smiles with too much teeth and he knows that he made a mistake coming here. “Didn't I hear there were two princes? The other one was idiotic and stubborn, but you seem like a smart boy.” 

“Most definitely, although many tend to disagree.”

The woman nods like she understands. He feels like she just might. 

Loki looks at the empty court, at the shattered stone that litters the floor. He looks up and sees a new mural. It tells a story not of peace but of war and fire, with her at Odin's side. Typical. 

_“What happened?”_

“It appears as though the Allfather was a bigger liar than I thought.” He looks her in the eye like a wolf. “That makes you his daughter perhaps?”

“First born, rightful heir to the throne.” She turns Gungnir in her hand, the blood drips down. “And you?”

“Third I suppose, unless Thor is dead.” 

“Almost, but he will be soon.” Hela draws out her words but at the same time talks too quickly. Its unnerving and he hears too much of someone else in her. “Even if he does live he won't be much good. He's down a few things.”

Steve's worry begins to bleed into Loki's mind again so he shoves it out. He shoves Steve out. A hole is left in his mind. He covers that up too. “What do you intend to do with your rule?”

“I'm so glad you asked.” Hela begins with a brief description of Asgard's history, her real history and not one Odin made up. Just as he suspected they travelled the universe together, conquering the nine realms. Eventually Odin turned benevolent and decided to locked her away instead of dealing with a violent child.

Then she tells him about a plan to take over the universe, one that will surely lead to the deaths of trillions. Considering she can lift Mjolnir and took down Thor, he doesn't doubt her. If she wanted she could probably even take down Thanos. 

When she finishes she asks him, “Join me and together we can conquer the universe.”

He almost agrees. It would be so easy, just like before. Thor was always going somewhere, fighting someone. As king Thor would have no doubt done the same as her. And with Thanos and his plan, not so different from her's. It has always been so easy to follow. 

Loki shakes his head. “Perhaps before I would have, not now I'm afraid."

“What changed?”

“I did.” Then he adds, “I have no desire to fight. You can do whatever you see fit. I was a prisoner and I have no desire for the throne. I just want to leave.”

She turns Gungnir slowly with a knuckle white grip. “I thought you were smarter than that. Although, I suppose I should expect nothing less from the son of Odin and his whore wife.”

“What?”

She quirks an eyebrow and tilts the spear blade towards him. A challenge he shouldn't take.

“I meant no disrespect.” He almost snarls, his hands itching for a knife. “But I am hardly a citizen here. My birthrights were most likely stripped when I was sentenced. I am not a threat.”

“I never thought you were.”

He dodges the blade before he sees it. The sword embeds in the floor behind him. An instant later she's in his face, Gungnir to his heart. He jumps back and reaches for his magic. It burns around the edges.

Loki dodges another blade but he knows he can't block. Odin took everything from him. Pocket dimensions that took centuries to build, overflowing with weapons, gone in an instant. Hela moves towards him fast, knives on every finger. He can't fight her but he can't world walk while moving either. He goes with the next best option.

He casts an illusion of a dragon, huge and menacing. She walks through it, a blade cutting his cheek. Then he throws out clones of himself, solid and as convincing as possible. He runs to the side, mixing with the others.

She turns on her heel in a move graceful in its horror, and blades drive through the hearts of every one. Except for the real Loki, who all but sprints back. His heart is racing in an uncomfortable way and Steve's anxiety is bleeding over again. Perhaps its his too, strong and smelling of blood.

He keeps pulling back, the halls feeling too big and too confined all at once. Every step he takes she gains two on him. Every blade thrown ends up just out of reach. She keeps him moving in a straight line, away from any chance of getting a weapon. Or a chance to catch her off guard.

Loki gets frustrated and set the floors ablaze with a snap. In the next movement he grabs a blade from the air. The sharp metal sinks into his skin, the heat burns his face, and for a brief moment, less than a heartbeat, he stops. The corners of the world shift. Just as he has one foot in between worlds his body stops.

Then the pain hits. Its an achingly familiar feeling, like a hand squeezing his heart. The breath rushes out of his lungs. He tries to take a step back only to lose his footing. Hela's hand reaches through the flames grasps the hilt of the sword embedded in his chest. It balances him for a moment. With a flick of her wrist the fire dies. Then she rips the blade from his flesh and everything comes crashing down. He tastes blood.

“When did everyone on Asgard become so stupid?” She asks him.

He doesn't answer. A part of him wonders why he even bothered to try. The rest of him knows why. But he should have just left. Midgard isn't a hard jump, he could have come back when he was ready. She would have been stronger too, more than anything he could handle.

Loki thinks he's dying, perhaps truly dying this time. He could only run so far anyway. Better this than by the hands of Thanos or the Black Order. It seems so stupid now, that this should kill him after everything. 

A garbled sound leaves him, blood thick in his throat. He swallows some down and wonders what lead him to this. Any other time he would have simply joined her or left without a second thought. So why now?

Thanos hadn't made him soft so it must have been prison. The anger, the fear, the hatred, it all should have built up until he destroyed himself. Instead there was little besides bright lights and memories of Steve. The trail to him feels so clear in his mind. It sings to him now, calls him like the void with a voice louder than any infinity stone. When he closes his eyes he can almost smell him. Steve. 

Loki opens his eyes to see Death. She looks different than he imagined. There is Odin in her gaze, murder in her smile. And in that moment Loki knows exactly what led him to this. It was Odin and his inability to kill the monsters he made.

It was also Steve. With his name on his lips, Loki closes his eyes again. He remembers.


	2. in the morning I'll be better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki remembers the early days of prison. Steve does something stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I just need to say that Loki thinks way too much and this hurts me to read but most of what I write hurts me so that's okay. I'm still learning and I'm just gonna go with it.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who gave kudos and commented you guys really helped me finish this. I started chapter 3 so lets see how this goes.

As Loki was pulled into the void, he was prepared to die. It seemed destiny had other plans. After the carnage and destruction, after the dust began to settle and the graves were dug, Loki was more than prepared. He hadn't been fool enough to believe there was a throne for him on Midgard. There was only an axe and he was tired of waiting to see who would swing it. 

Apparently Odin wasn't ready for that. So he was left alive. Any chance at freedom was crushed by the knowledge that he would be hunted from all sides if he tried to escape. And Odin knew this, he had to. So Loki was bitter, seething with a boiling rage that threatened to eat through his stomach and then the floor below.

When the barrier closed behind him he pressed his hands against it until he could taste his own burning flesh. The guards watched, weapons raised, but didn't try to stop him. They probably thought he had gone mad. Good, he thought, let them. Perhaps the Allfather would change his mind if he believed their pet monster had lost his.

Nothing changed for a long time. Eventually Loki lost feeling in his arms. He let them drop uselessly to his sides, let the weight carry him further. A part of him wanted to cry. The rest was too tired to try. 

The floor was colder than he was used to. He looked at the state of his hands, bloody and blackened but already healing, and he pressed them against the tile. A hard shiver went through his spine. It settled in his stomach. He breathed out slowly, hoping to release it, and became suddenly very aware of himself. 

The pain returning to his hands to his hands. The bile biting the back of his throat. The way his body involuntarily responded to the cold. This all stood out harshly in his mind. Like this was all that existed in the universe. He exhaled slowly, deeply, this time through his nose. The nausea didn't abate so he tried to swallow it. That only left him choking.

His mind screamed that he wasn't alone. He would never be alone. How dare Odin take this away from him? After a lifetime of living in Thor’s shadow, of only being noticed when he was a nuisance, he was to just be locked away? Is that how it was always to be? Like another stolen relic?

A sound wrenched itself from his. Then another, louder and higher. And then he was laughing harder than he had in years. It hurt. It hurt so bad that he thought he must be dying. He hoped so. Norns. He hoped so.

Loki’s shrill laughter faded. He let his mind drift. And when he came back he felt loose, empty. Like his brain had just been torn apart and put back together. It felt good and bad at once. And when he rubbed the tears from his cheeks, Loki was still alive. 

He breathed in deeply, breathed out like it was his first. If Loki was nothing else, he was adaptable. He could make something out of this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a very long time, nothing happened. Loki spent the time simultaneously very aware of himself and very distant from his situation. Time didn't matter. Meals came when he was hungry, sometimes when he wasn't. Occasionally other things came too, furniture, clothes, or books. The lights never went out.

The constant gaze of the guards set him on edge. He was never touched, never spoken to. It was different than Sanctuary, similar to the void. It didn't feel like torture, just bright lights and constant stares, yet it was still a cage. He had grown far too used to cages.

After he fell -- pushed, thrown, let go -- rest was a foreign concept. The void was nothing. Sanctuary was pain. Midgard was a fight for control. Or a play at villainy, becoming the monster the universe knew he was. All of it was leading to something. Everything had been about the after. New York, Midgard, Sanctuary and its pain, that had all just been a formality. His goal had been the stone and in the end, his death. Loki had chased that into the void. 

Now he was alive. He had always been good at scheming, planning his escape. After days of looking for a solution, he grew tired of even that. He was tired of a great many things these days. It seemed as though it would be best to wait until something happened. Until then he was safe in this cell until Thanos came to liberate him.

Eventually he was given a bed. For the first time in a long time, Loki knew what he wanted to do. So he laid in down and let himself relax. He almost sunk through the mattress to the floor. It felt so nice. In just a few breaths he felt everything let go. He closed his eyes.

Then he learned how this place would torture him. The lights were too bright, the humming too loud. It made him long for before. No, it made him long for the void. After a lifetime of being nothing and wanting to be something, he simply wanted to go back.

And Loki hated himself for that. It festered like an open wound the longer he was awake. His weakness, his fear, his mind that circled itself like a snake trying to devour its own tail, it all fed into his anger. And damn Odin for putting him here. He wanted to scream and throw himself against the barrier until he passed out or died. He didn't.

It was one day, because day never ended here, that he contemplated coming clean about everything. The stones, Thanos, Sanctuary, spill his guts before the Allfather just to see his reaction. The prisoners next to him were fighting loudly and the guards did nothing. He told himself he should give up. When he had decided to keep living anyway? 

Something held his tongue. It wasn't fear, not of Thanos at least. An entirely new realm of tortures awaited him when the titan found him. However, Asgard had no place for traitors. Betraying Thanos would make little difference. And as the lingering taste of poison burned lowly in his stomach, he knew better than to admit anything. 

Loki thought about the dead connection in his mind. Those never go away completely. The bed was soft underneath him. The floor would probably be more comfortable. He curled into a loose ball and hugged his knees.

Lying in bed was the best way to conserve energy. Twenty three meals had passed since his imprisonment. How often did meals come, he wondered. Already there was so much time to fill. Yet, no matter how little he did, he only grew more exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he slept either.

Stale air rattled in his lungs. It hurt to breathe sometimes, hurt to think often. His eyes hurt too, although that was a newer pain. He tried not to watch the shadows or jump at the outside sounds. Facing the wall was getting easier. Remembering that he was in a cell on Asgard was easy too, so long as he stared at the white and the lights long enough. 

His stomach made a noise and he pulled the blankets higher. Memories nipped at the back of his mind, whispering about tests and choices. Loki focused on control instead. He pulled the pillows closer to block out the noise. Nothing could get in or out of the dungeons of Asgard. No one was coming to free him. No one could take him.

Loki took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. It felt good to lay still, to just not move. The light bore its way into his eye sockets. The humming drilled into his ears. At least the shouting had died down. If he breathed slowly it was almost like he was asleep. And if he didn't think too hard, he could almost feel himself drifting off. He could already feel himself relax.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

_The streets of DC were quieter than he was used to. It was the quiet that kept him up at night ironically. He stared at the ceiling, trying not to sink into the bed, and wondered if he should just go for a run. It's not like he was getting any sleep tonight anyway._

_City lights shone through the window, another thing he wasn't entirely used to yet. He turned to face the wall, wondered if he should buy some curtains. He would ask Natasha about it tomorrow. She seemed to know a lot. He pulled the pillow over his head. It didn't help._

_Somewhere between one thought and the next he was gone. Falling. Soaring through the dark and at the bottom he could see the too bright light. Panic gripped his throat but it was too quick to react. He smashed through the light into icy cold. The ice sank into his bones. And when he looked at his hands they had turned a deep, disgusting shade of blue._

_“You thought you could hide from us? From him?” A voice snarled in his ear._

_Fear sank deeper, seized his tongue and sewed his mouth shut. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't scream. The cold settled around him. It turned his blood to slush. It hurt. But he couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop the heart in his chest. They were here. They were coming._

_He was alone._

Anxiety ran thick in his blood. It choked him like water, turned his skin numb with cold. For a split second he was in the void. The light dragged him back. Then he was coughing the water from his lungs. Everything hurt. He was cold. He couldn't breathe.

The floor smacked him in the face. A hard shivering rattled his spine, shaking away the rest of the dream. Shadows still danced in the corners if the room. He didn't look at them. He looked at the new bookshelf instead. The thought of reading already made his eyes ache.

The tile felt so nice against his face. And as his heart began to slow, the crushing exhaustion settled upon his shoulders. He swallowed his down fear. Whatever that had been, it was probably fine. He was just going mad. That was normal. He had always been mad.

_Running. Running. Running. It felt good to run. His lungs burned but he could still breathe. It grounded him. Reminded him where he was._

Loki blinked a few times. He didn't want to move yet. The light hurt. He closed his eyes, trying to block it out, and turned his head.

_The sun wasn't up yet. The moon was invisible, as were the stars. Cities had gotten brighter in 70 years. He just kept running. Don't think about it._

Loki breathed out loudly, pulling himself more fully awake. Dreams were just a reflection of reality. Odin had prophecies but he didn't even carry his blood. This was nothing. An overactive imagination. Remnants of his time in the void. 

He pushed himself up from the floor and everything felt stiff. The lights still hurt his eyes. The air still burned his lungs. Everything hurt all the time. That was nothing new. This was Odin’s punishment, to lose his mind here. Eventually he would lose himself too. Damn him.

A guard watched him from beyond the barrier. He wanted to throw things, throw himself into the wall of energy just to see how he would react. Loki smiled instead, knowing he must look mad. 

The prisoners were still shouting. The words garbled, knotted like his guts had been when he hadn't bowed far enough. He could taste blood at the memory. 

There was the distinct thud of a fist hitting muscle, followed by shuffling. A shout, a scrape, another thud. Something hit the barrier and sizzled. He heard a man curse loudly in a language he didn't know but Allspeak certainly did. 

“Are you going to do nothing?” Loki asked the guards.

They stared at him like he was an idiot. 

“You know what I'm talking about. I am insane, not stupid, so do not look at me like that. I am still your prince. I deserve some respect.”

They did nothing, refused to even acknowledge him. Damn them too. He would kill them when he got out of this cage. Slaughter them where they stood, slowly so Loki could watch the life drain from their eyes. He would bury his hands in the man's chest and show him his own stomach. He would enjoy it too, with Loki's hand in his brain. 

His palms burned against the barrier, the feeling both intense and grounding. When had be done that? His anger melted away into pain and tingling apathy. It was easier to not feel. His hands dropped to his sides. 

Then his meal appeared in a small flash of light, pulling him more fully out of whatever fit he had been in. Food was of little interest to him now but he walked over to the table to pick at it anyway. The meat stung his slowly healing fingers. 

Perhaps he missed the pain too. The feeling of his bones shattering and his skin ripping apart. The hollowness of his stomach. The fear. It was something beyond the nothing. He missed it.

There was a new hollowness to him now. He could feel the holes where his magic should be. A lot was suppressed by this room, more had been torn away by Odin himself. His pocket dimensions, so meticulously crafted over centuries, now lay empty in his mind. It didn't hurt, not in the ways he wanted it to. It held the same oppressive numbness this place did. When he left, he knew he would probably miss this place too.

Loki left his food mostly untouched. For a brief moment he wanted to feel powerful again. He shoved that desire away. Instead, he focused on his magic. It thrummed lightly, like something almost pulling like a thread at his mind. Loki couldn't tell if it was real or not. Everything felt wrong in this cell, his magic especially.

Loki drummed his fingers against his leg. He thought back to his connection to The Other. That had been like a fist in his brain which was not dissimilar to having one in his intestines. It certainly hurt less, although it kept his magic erratic and drained. There was also the fact that he had been constantly watched. Also not dissimilar to prison except now he didn't have to control his own thoughts. 

The thread had been there for a while, like an itch he didn't know he had until now. He assumed it was this cell, but perhaps not. Dreams weren't real but magic was. Magic clings to magic. And even if the soldier wasn't, the stones were still a factor.

A yawn built up in his chest. It pulled him away from his thoughts. After his little outburst he was more exhausted than before. The lights were still too bright. He rose slowly and trudged to the bed. It looked inviting but also tied knots in his chest. Just the thought of lying down made him want to burst into tears. Childish.

He fell face first into the mattress, stretched his feet out behind him, and arched his back. Then he pressed his palms against the wall and pushed until his bones popped. Loki breathed out slowly and let himself melt through the bed. His pulled the blanket over his head. Insomnia had always plagued him.

He yawned again. And tried to relax. Already his body was trying to knot up again. Everything felt wrong. He felt wrong. It almost hurt how much he wanted to just stop existing. It didn't hurt enough. He wanted to burn his hands again. No. He wanted to jump off the Bifrost again.

Sometimes it helped to focus on something. Slowly he began to pick at the healing skin in the cracks of his palms. It was an old habit, one Thanos quickly rid him of. Thanos wasn't here right now to see it. Loki was doomed anyway so why should it matter?

If he closed his eyes it wasn't so bright that he couldn't ignore it. If he dug in his fingers just right it hurt just enough to blur the edges of his mind. And if he breathed slowly through his nose then it was almost like meditating, even if that never really worked when his mind was like this.

His thoughts drifted and he dimly began to think about the tug. Barely there and almost insignificant, easy to imagine in his current state. But it had made itself known with the dreams. Maybe it had something to do with the tesseract. The soldier had been involved with it before Loki let it touch his magic. Perhaps there was something to there.

Or perhaps it had always been there. A thin string linking their minds for all of eternity, even if mortals only existed for a short time. Perhaps he was only feeling it now because they had met. 

_Steve liked the mornings. They were quite and no one was really awake yet. He sprinted another lap and felt the way his heart almost hurt. The sun had just began to peak over when he noticed a familiar face. He slowed down, jogged towards her._

_“Is this just a thing you do now?” Natasha asked._

_“I've always done it, I just didn't know a good place before.”_

_“It's a good habit to have.” She paused for a moment. “Fury needs you to come in. Our intelligence says a group of mercenaries intend to attack a government research building in Florida in about 3 hours.”_

_“Do you know what they want?”_

_“I can debrief you on the way.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki woke up slowly. The space behind his eyes hurt and his head felt like it was filled with wool. For a moment he wondered what he was doing, half hanging off the bed with his knees on the floor and a blanket on his head. He swallowed and wiped the drool from his chin. Everything was heavy, his senses muted. 

Light shone through the blankets, something that hurt a lot more now that he was aware of it. Why were the lights so bright? What was that noise? He started to move and pain seared across his back and tore apart his spine. Why did he fall asleep like this?

Then he remembered. Prison. The soldier. The rest came back slowly. Somewhere between the exhaustion and the dreaming he must have fallen asleep. If he laid still the pain was less but he'd dealt with worse so he pushed himself up. A hot ache burned through his ribs and he leaned back until he felt a pop. 

If he was a smart man he would get up and stretch to keep the muscles from tightening up. Unfortunately Loki was not a smart man. He crawled fully onto the bed, blanket still firmly over his head, and closed his eyes. His whole body was like a soaked leather book, almost falling apart at the seams.

_The bullets bounced off his shield, followed by the familiar sound of them hitting flesh. He heard the guy hit the ground. He didn't check to see if he was dead._

_Steve stumbled, the strong feeling of something -- it was really hard to describe -- pressed against his mind. Not unlike a cat rubbing against his legs but closer to a hand on his shoulder? Maybe?_

_Pain sliced through his arm. He turned to block the other bullets and ran at the man. They hit the ground hard. His fist hit the man's face, probably harder than he should. He went limp in what was hopefully unconsciousness. Deal with it later._

_Tires squealed and Steve dove out of the way as a truck plowed through the gates. A swear in his lips, he snatched his shield, and sprinted after it. He swore again when they started shooting at him. A bullet grazed his leg. He barely felt it._

_His fingers brushed the back of van once. Twice. Then the handle was in his hand and he pulled himself up. What now? The door was locked. If he pushed too hard he could fall off. He looked up. The roof. He climbed on the roof but they swerved and he almost fell. His stomach was in his throat. Shit._

_Steve drove his shield into the metal roof for balance. They swerved again but he held on. The wind drowned out almost all sound. Whatever Natasha yelled in his ear was gone in an instant._

_He inched forward then ripped the shield out. A bullet shot through the roof an inch from his arm. The van swerved again and he used the momentum to swing his legs through the window. Glass shattered and flew everywhere. The car jerked and he was suddenly sitting in the laps of two mercenaries._

_He smacked the driver in the face with his shield, knocking him unconscious instantly. A gun went off. Steve hooked his foot in the steering wheel. He decked the other guy without looking._

_The car got faster, the body in the driver seat falling on them. The passenger started choking him, trying to shoot him, so Steve grabbed his gun and aimed it for anywhere but him. He managed to point it at the ceiling. Then he pulled the trigger until all it did was click._

_The guy jerked him. He was choking, he couldn't get a grip half upside down like this. Steve couldn't see the road, his leg spasmed and the car swerved. He felt the whole vehicle tilt for a moment before it slammed back down._

_They were both still for a moment, barely a blink, before there was a knife at his throat. Steve swallowed convulsively, hoping and praying he didn't hit anyone. Then his hand shot out and he opened the door. The man was sucked out with a shriek. Steve almost followed if it wasn't for his foot on the wheel. The car spun out of control._

_He pulled himself up quickly, trying to get a handle on the situation. Just in time to see a busy market coming into view. He jerked the wheel out of the way. A building came up fast. Too fast. He blindly felt for the breaks._

_They screeched to a halt, only barely coming in contact with the wall. Steve sat there, staring at the bricks and breathing heavily. His chest almost hurt. Slowly noise trickled back in._

_“Rogers. Steve. Can you hear me?” Natasha asked almost frantically._

_“Yeah,” He croaked “Yeah I'm here. I'm okay. I got the truck.”_

_“You got the truck?” She said in disbelief_

_He rested his head on the steering wheel. “Yeah I got it. I think the guys who stole it are dead though.”_

Loki let he voices fade out. His heart pounded in time with Steve's, ready to burst from his chest. His hands were trembling. It was like the rush he got with illusions, almost better than real life. A laugh bubbled up. He barely heard it.

If this was to be his foreseeable future it would make this cage more tolerable. It was just a question of how long until he grew bored. And how long until he started pushing the limits. 

How long until Steve noticed something was wrong?


End file.
